“waiting”…my poem
what are their names?
waiting
I wait.
The waiting.
The words take their time,
they tumble with my musing,
they taunt and tempt
and temporize,
the words can hide and peek,
they wait to be a gush,
I want to call to them
but I do not know their names,
each one in its own moment
quivers in the poem-to-be,
waits for me to grab the quill,
and I wait.
July 14, 2025
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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2025 All rights reserved.
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